Thunderstorm
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: She shows up on a stormy night, her emotions closely resembling the thunderstorm that's raging outside and in need of comfort from him. Will not ruin the ending but it's fluffy!


The crashing boom of thunder drowned out the low volume of the weather reports flashing across his TV screen. A flash of purple light filtered through his window as the lightning cracked across the night sky in a jagged streak of purple electricity. Heavy rain poured from the sky in white sheets, pounding on the roof in a dull rhythm. He can't really force himself to care about the raging storm outside, as his bed was entirely too comfortable and he was much to tired to even think about moving. He roused from his drowsy, half-asleep state when the sound of the elevator screeching to a stop reached his ears above everything else.

"Who the-?" Chance mumbled, slipping his gun from the holster on his hip without a sound and turning the TV off.

He slipped off of the bed and started toward the stairs, peaking over the railing to see who it was, but all he could see was a tall figure, dimly illuminated by the purple light that flashed through the window downstairs. He creeped down the stairs- carefully not to make a sound, even though he was barefoot and unless there were some creaking floorboards he didn't know about, he would have to try to make noise.

"Mr. Chance?" Her British accent was thicker than normal and her voice was hoarse and raspy.

"Ilsa?" Chance questioned into the inky darkness, the stillness only broken by his movement to put his gun back in it's holster. "Jesus!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chance, I didn't want to alarm you." Ilsa paused for a second before wiping her eyes, "I could just use some company tonight."

"Have you been crying?" Chance asked her softly, his voice laced with genuine concern.

"It's nothing." She denied with a shake of her short black curls.

"Ilsa," Chance almost growled, "If you've been crying then something's wrong, what is it?"

He blinked until his eyes were adjusted to the inky blackness and made his way to the light switch. He flipped it on and released the breath he didn't know he had been holding as he turned back toward his business partner and friend. With benefits. _Fringe _benefits. He could have sworn he heard his heart rip to shreds like a piece of paper at the sight of her standing near the elevator in wet clothes, a tan trench coat thrown on to ward off the chill but it was obvious that the soaked jacket was doing little to protect her from the steadily dropping temperature. She had her head down to avoid meeting his eyes and her shoulders visibly shuddered with each breath.

"Let me see your face," Chance ordered softly, as he walked toward her.

"Mr. Chance-"

"Ilsa, head up, now." Chance growled his order, "Let me see the damage."

She slowly raised her head, giving him a full view of the damage she had done to her face from all the crying. Her chocolate brown eyes were dull, tired and sad, the whites had turned a dark shade of red and heavy bags were clearly visible. Her cheeks were blotched and he could see the salty tears mixing with the rain water dripping down her face. Her face was puffy and her eyes were swollen almost completely shut.

"Ilsa," Chance breathed as he reached toward her and gently brushed the swollen skin under eyes, the darkness of them evidence of her exhaustion and weariness. "What happened?"

"It caught up to me." Ilsa mumbled, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip to stop the quivering.

The adrenaline rush was clearly gone and the storm of emotions from the past week had swept through with all the vengeance of a hurricane through a small town. Unyielding and unrelenting as it tore at her and wore her down until she was forced to feel. Forced to feel things that he had tried to avoid. Tried to keep from her along with the secret of her husband's possible affair. The overwhelming emotions had taken it's toll on her, tearing her down until she needed someone to help her stay upright. Help her breath through it all.

"Ilsa," Chance mumbled, wrapping his arms around the shaky, drenched woman. "You can stay here tonight."

Almost immediately she relaxed in his arms and let him pick her up. He managed to conceal his chuckle at how light she was-despite being soaked to the core. Despite her height, he could have sworn she didn't weigh an ounce over ninety pounds soaking wet. He knew it must have been really bad when she didn't even notice that he had her cradled against his bare chest. Usually, if anyone was going to notice, it would have been her. He carried her up the stairs and into his loft, gently setting her down before disappearing to find her some dry, warm clothes.

"Here," He reappeared with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, which he knew would swallow her. "Go dry off and change in the bathroom, I'll be right here when you get back."

She took the clothes reluctantly and disappeared into the bathroom. She reemerged a few minutes later, drying her tangled mess of damp curls. Despite washing her face and changing her clothes, he could still the tiredness that lingered in her eyes and the weariness in her posture that seemed to weigh her down. He nodded toward the bed and watched as she padded over to it and sunk down on the mattress before slipping under the covers and pulling the covers up over her shoulder. A few deep breaths into the cotton sheets let her inhale his wonderful scent and calm her rattled nerves.

"Now," He whispered as he crawled into the bed beside her. "What happened?"

"I just," She mumbled shakily into the soft cotton of his bed sheets. "I couldn't forget. Any of it."

Chance didn't say anything, he just reached over and pulled the broken down woman into his arms, helping her in the only way he could. Ilsa rolled over and buried her face in the warm skin of his chest, breathing in that familiar scent of gunpowder and cologne that was uniquely Chance. Her nerves were frazzled and her whole body trembled with each breath. The memories of everything that had happened in the past week came barreling in and the familiar burn of tears that threatened to spill over made her blink several times. She tried to forget Guerrero and Chance hiding the pictures from her, the rum and sodium thiopental induced kiss- everything. It all came back and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Ilsa?" Chance questioned, looking down into the mass of thick, wet black curls on top of her head, when he felt the trembling stop and the tears she had cried onto his chest had dried. "Ilsa? Are you okay?"

Mournful brown eyes stared back at him, sadness lingering within the depths of the rich chocolate color. Her lips were parted slightly, damp from tears and her hands slid down his chest, to his abs coming to rest just above the waistband of his sweatbands, burying her fingers in the light dusting of coarse hair that disappeared into his sweatpants.

"Ilsa?" Chance looked down at her, "What are you doing?"

"I just," Ilsa mumbled as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and roll over, forcing him to roll over on top of her. "I just want to forget. Just for tonight."

He rested his forearms on the mattress, his stomach pressing into hers as he met her eyes. The need to forget flickered in her eyes like fire, flickering and lingering like a flame that never went out. Her lips looked seductive and even though he knew the salty taste of tears still remained on them, he also knew that she needed to forget and if he was the one to help her do that, than so be it. He gently pressed his lips against her, experimenting as if to make sure it was what she was really wanted.

"Please?" She whimpered against his mouth. "Just for right now."

He pressed a bit harder, letting his tongue graze her bottom lip, tasting the salt and the damp wetness of her tears that lingered there. She opened her mouth and let him in. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, grazing the roof of her mouth. His hands went to her hips, holding her down to keep her from arching off of the bed and taking this further than either of them intended. He slid his hands under the t-shirt and let his hands encase the soft skin that lie beneath the cotton. He groaned into her mouth and lowered his own hips to hers, unable to resist the sensual feeling of her soft hips. Her soft form molded to his like perfection.

"Ilsa?" Chance mumbled pulling back slightly to breath. "Ilsa, I won't take advantage of you like this."

"Then can you at least stay with me? Just hold me?" Ilsa requested shyly, as he raised his hips and rolled off of her, refusing to take advantage of her.

"Yea, I can do that." Chance nodded, as he reached for her and pulled her into him.

She curled into his side, her head finding that perfect place on his shoulder with her face buried in the warmth of his neck. He rubbed her back soothingly, offering whatever kind of comfort he could to her. He wouldn't take advantage of her by taking it any further than she wanted it to go and he would make sure she didn't want it to go any further than it had already. He didn't want her to regret it in the morning.

They listened in silence as the storm raged on outside, taking in the crashing sound of the thunder, the crackle of electricity as it cracked across the sky and flashes of electricity flashed in the window and the steady dull beat of rain against the roof. They didn't move or sleep the whole night, content to just lay there and enjoy physical contact with one other.

It was comforting to one.

It was needed by both.

xxx

Ilsa was the first to move when the first rays of morning sunlight poured through the window, casting shadows on the wall and illuminating the room in the warm golden glow. The soft light seemed like the perfect ending to the stormy night. She slid out of bed under Chance's watchful eye and padded over to the window, opening the curtain. He could see the weariness leave her shoulders as the soft gold light illuminated her sensual figure and she smiled for the first time in a week.

"You okay?" He questioned as he slid out of bed and walked up behind her.

"Yea," She nodded as she turned around and let her eyes skim his shirtless abdomen. "Dear God, I must have really bad last night because I didn't even notice that you were shirtless."

"Yes, I figured it was bad when you didn't try anything while I was carrying you up the stairs." Chance chuckled, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him, burying his face in the top of her head, breathing in the smell of rainwater that still lingered in the soft black spirals.

He couldn't help but smile when he felt and heard her giggle against his chest, her hands slipping around his abdomen, "Was I really that bad?"

"Ilsa, you showed up in the middle of one of the worst thunderstorms San Francisco has ever seen, crying and saying that you couldn't forget." Chance told her solemnly, "You were upset but that's okay, you had every right to be upset."

"What did I do?" Ilsa looked up at him, her cheeks flushed a dark red.

"What do you mean?" Chance asked her in confusion, looking down into her dark eyes.

"What did I do? I always do something when I'm upset what was it last night?" Ilsa asked him, flushing a darker shade of red-if that was possible.

Chance couldn't help but laugh lightly as he leaned down and kissed her, "Nothing."

"Okay."

"Well," Chance drawled as he backed her into the wall, pressing his body against hers. "You did try something."

"What was it?" Ilsa asked him, raising her eyebrows.

"You tried to come onto me," Chance laughed, letting his lips hover just above hers. "And I almost went for it."

"And if I were try again?" She practically purred, letting her hands skim over his chest and down his abdomen, reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants.

"Well I just might go for it this time," Chance growled as he crashed his lips against hers.

Ilsa giggled into his mouth as she slid her back up and looped them around his neck. Her troubles the night before disappeared and in it's place was the fiery, seductive Ilsa that he had grown accustomed too. The Ilsa that wasn't afraid to use her sensuality to her advantage. The Ilsa that loved with all she had in her and yet, had never expected that same love in return. As her soft form molded into his and a low growl escaped his throat, he could only think of one thing.

She would be loved like she deserved one day.

And maybe, just maybe he would be the one to give her what she deserved.

* * *

><p><strong>I know this is long but I just couldn't help that last sunrise scene, I figured I had to bring that stormy night to an end somehow. Yes, I know that last scene was a little sexed-up but in her defense, he was shirtless and when it comes to shirtless Chance, well anything other than sexual and sensual just will not do. Anywho, niagaraweasel, dear, I present to you the story I told you about :) I hope you thoroughly enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Leave me some love, Dolls! <strong>

**Love, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove**

**P.S. If you want to get a better feel for the story, read it while you listen to 'She Will Be Loved' by Maroon 5, it's basically the story of Chance and Ilsa sung by Adam Levine...and it's also the only song my brain will let me listen to at the moment. **


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